When the Dead Start Walking, The Piper Starts Flying
by griZzlyAngel
Summary: She wasn't exactly what you called a decent woman, Prue Bennet. She was often times rude and cranky. Her best friends were a Pall Mall cigarette and a shot of Jack Daniels. With her ragged, Atlanta Braves cap, baggy plaid shirt, ripped blue jeans and Carhartt boots she looked tough enough without her shooting you that famous death stare of hers'. However, she had a huge heart.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello all! This is my first TWD story I've published on this site, so be gentle. Of course, that's not to say I don't wish to be critiqued when and where necessary. Please do, in fact! No flames, though. Be civilized. I'll be honest, I only just started getting into the series this past summer, and I'm pissed I did not do so earlier, because I absolutely _love _it! However, I have not read any of the comics, so this story (or any future stories) will be based on the television show, although some side research of the comics on wikipedia may be done from time to time to meet my needs, lol. So anyway, enough ranting. Here's the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Walking Dead' or any of its related characters. Those are all property of Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman, AMC and all others who hold copyright to this franchise. However, all original characters made up in this story, like Prue Bennet, are mine.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Awaking from the familiar, loving kisses of her red-nosed pitbull terrier, Prue Bennet sputtered and laughed, pulling herself upright in the bed.

"Viggo! Stop it, ya big buffoon! I'm up, I'm up!"

The stout dog only yipped and panted excitedly at her, his tail wagging like mad. The woman grinned back at her four-legged companion, giving his head a pat and a scratch behind his left ear.

"Yes, you've succeeded in making me happy. Congratulations. Now let's have breakfast."

Viggo barked and jumped off the bed, landing with surprising grace on the floor. He then turned back and proceeded to bark at his owner until she was out of the bed also. Prue rolled her eyes and stretched lazily, ignoring his incessant barks purposefully. This was their ritual every morning. She would be lying to herself if she said she did not find it slightly enjoyable. Finally, before the poor thing exhausted himself, Prue got off the bed. Viggo stopped almost instantly. He watched her closely as she crossed the bedroom to fetch her fluffy green robe and Tigger slippers. Once she'd done this, she walked up to him, smiling, and nodded her head towards the door.

"Let's go, Boss."

He sprung up and ran out of the room happily, with she following close behind.

The tinkling of the cereal hitting the porcelain bowl bounced about the tiny kitchen and dining area of the one bedroom apartment, waking Prue further. She blinked and yawned, setting the half-eaten box of Cinnamon Cheerios on the counter to her right, reaching for the half gallon vitamin D milk next. At her feet Viggo was snuffling the floor, licking up any crumbs that he came across. His owner never found time for regular sweeping, wiping or vacuuming, so it was safe to say he was not disappointed. Prue screwed the red cap back on the milk and set it to the side as well, then grabbed a spoon from the drawer of silverware and began making quick work of her cold breakfast. As she crunched away, she looked up at her old television set that was in clear view from where she was standing at her counter. The news was on. Then again, when wasn't it? Rolling her eyes, she decided to do something a little different and actually listen to it for once. Picking up her bowl and spoon, she walked around the counter and into the living room, snatched the remote from the coffee table and sat down on what had once been her mother's sofa. The thing was ancient, purchased back in 1968, well worn and used to its full extent. However, being dirt poor, Prue really had no choice but to accept any hand-me-downs she could scavenge from her family. It was fine, at least she had some sort of furniture. And a place to live for that matter. She pressed the button to increase the volume so that she could hear the report, then flung it aside.

"-has been reported in the strange new sickness that seems to be spreading quite rapidly through the country right now," the newscaster, who looked like a wax dummy with all the make-up and bleach-blond hair, was saying. "Both doctors and scientists are still stumped by what the agent _is _exactly and where it all originated to begin with. We go now to Barb Whitney, who is currently at St. Joe's where the victim has been taken. Barb-"

"That's enough, Barbie." Prue mumbled through a mouthful of cereal, muting the T.V.

Viggo hopped up onto the sofa beside her and sniffed in her ear, his tail wagging.

The woman giggled, swatting him away.

"You see now why I don't watch the news, Vig?" she spoke to him, gesturing to the screen. "Never a damn thing worth listening to. Just drama, death and politics. I have more than enough of my own problems. I don't need the rest of world's too."

Dabbing on the last bit of lipstick to her mouth, Prue rubbed her lips together and puckered like a model for her bathroom mirror. She snorted, realizing that the word model and her name did not belong in the same sentence. As she turned her head from left to right, posing shamelessly, she wondered then if she should even bother with ever fixing herself up anymore. She was a single, thirty-five year old woman, living with her dog in a shabby apartment. The way she saw it, she was already over-the-hill a long time ago. Men her age didn't start looking to women like her. They were either married or seeking someone worthwhile, not some pathetic working class waitress. She ceased her flaunting and stood rigid before the mirror, breathing in and out. A frown formed on her lips. She crossed her arms and shook her head at her reflection.

"Why am I still trying?"

There was a low keening from her feet and she glanced downward. Viggo was looking back up at her, ears hanging low, amber eyes wide and sad.

She smirked. "I suppose it's for you, huh, Boss?"

Viggo's ears perked up then and he began panting, his large mouth spreading outwards like a huge, dopey smile.

"You goof." Prue patted his head and walked past him out of the bathroom.

She strode out into the living room, gathered her uniform, jacket, purse and keys from the kitchen table, turned off the T.V. and turned on the radio. Viggo trailed behind her, his tail always wagging like crazy. She turned to him, looking serious.

"Gotcha favorite classic rock station on, now you do me a favor and hold down the fort while I'm gone okay?"

He sat still, even his tail paused momentarily, staring back up at her with just as serious an expression.

"If you're lucky, I'll consider bringing back scraps for you, but don't get your hopes up," she crouched down in front of him so that they were making level eye contact. "Be a good boy, okay?"

Viggo whined and lifted his left paw to bat her knee.

"I know, I know, I'll be careful," she sighed and held his paw. "Love ya, Vig."

He barked in response, his tail back to wagging again. Prue rose and made for the door, while Viggo loyally stayed put. The woman stopped before walking out, glancing over her shoulder at him one last time.

"Wish me luck."

Outside the air was humid and the sky was overcast, but it didn't bother Prue. She had to work all day anyway. Stepping down the sidewalk, her dark hazel eyes swept across the world before her. It was nearing ten now, most people were already at their jobs and the kids at school, so things were kind of quiet. The only people who were out and about were either stay-at-home mothers strolling their babies or elderly folk passing by on a peaceful jaunt. The apartment complex Prue resided in faced a nice neighborhood across the street. King County, Georgia. Not the best town to be in, but certainly not the worst either.

* * *

"Flyin' higher and higher, gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels, take me where my future's lyin', Saint Elmo's fire!"

Prue drummed on her steering wheel to the beat of the classic 80s hit, belting it out at the top of her lungs. She wouldn't dare sing in front of anyone ever, but alone it was her greatest stress reliever. Other than beating the shit out of her pillow every night. Not to mention, she was a sucker for old school music, specifically from the 1980s, the best time of her life. Listening to and singing along with the rest of the song, Prue's mind drifted backwards in nostalgia. She remembered hearing this song for the first time back then. Back when she was nothing but innocent and the world was a shining, happy place. A dreamy smile started to creep onto her face the more she indulged in her childhood memories. In her brief state of euphoria, the woman failed to notice her foot pressing down harder and harder on the gas pedal, until there was a telltale flash of lights and siren on her rearend. She gasped as she glimpsed the cruiser in her rearview mirror, automatically stepping on the brakes.

"Shit! Fuck!" she hissed, lurching in her seat.

She pulled off the road into the parking lot of an old coin laundry service, spitting every curse word known to mankind. Slapping the radio off, she swallowed nervously as she watched the cruiser slowly pull up beside her out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror and she saw her curly mane was all misplaced from her harsh braking. There was a light knock on her window, making her jump and whip her head back around. On the other side of the glass was the policeman. He gave her a wave and signalled for her to roll down the window.

"Hi." he greeted, smiling in a warm fashion.

"Hello-" she noted his badge and hat. "Sheriff. What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, Ma'am, I'm not sure if you were aware of it or not, but you were driving over the speed limit." he explained calmly, bending over to meet her eyes better.

Prue was transfixed for a split second when she met his gaze. His eyes were piercing blue. The bluest she'd ever seen. They were astounding. She blinked in awe at him, knowing somewhere in the back of her head how dumb she must've looked.

"Speed limit?" she echoed him.

He nodded. "Yeah. Ten over, to be exact."

"I was driving ten over the speed limit? How can that be? I was going fifty-five."

"The speed limit is _forty-five _down Ginger Road."

"Forty-five?!"

He gave a nod.

"Are you sure?" she mentally smacked herself right after saying that.

The corners of his mouth quirked as he tried to hold back a smile.

"Positive."

Prue sighed as the enchantment of his baby blues wore off and laid her head back against the seat.

"What's the charge?"

"Well, usually when a person is found driving ten above the set limit, they can expect to be fined one hundred dollars." he answered matter-of-factly.

A groan issued from the woman. She put her hand out of the window, palm opened towards him.

"Of course. Look," she beckoned with her fingers. "Just hand over the ticket and let me be on my way, please."

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but I'm not done yet."

She rolled her eyes, not caring if he seen. "Sorry. Continue."

"Now, usually a person is fined one hundred dollars for what you just did. Usually," he bit his lip, lowering his head a moment, then lifting it again. "So count yourself lucky for being the unusual one."

"What?" she looked at him, confused.

"I'm not pushing the charge against you. This is the first time I've caught you, so I'll let you go with a warning. Don't speed, please."

Prue lit up in an instant, seeing how blue his eyes were once more.

"Really? Oh, thank you, Sheriff! Thank you, thank you so much! You have _no _idea how much you've just made my day!" she beamed at him.

He smiled, though there was a somberness about it.

"You don't have to thank me, Ma'am. You just have to promise to never do it again."

"Oh, I promise! You betcha!"

"Well, alright," he patted her car, tipping his hat to her. "You have a good day now, Ma'am. Drive safe. Always."

"Always." she winked at him.

His gaze lingered on her a moment before he straightened and turned away, returning to his cruiser. Prue watched him leave the parking lot first, then once he was out of sight around a corner up the street she drove off as well. As she switched the radio back on, her eyes caught the clock. It was 10:35.

"Damnit, I'm gonna be late for work. Bob's gonna be pissed," she sighed sadly, but almost immediately perked back up. "I don't have to pay for a ticket! It's nice to see you on my side once in a while, God."

* * *

"Why does God loath me so much? I swear, I'm going to quit. Today. Right after this break. I'm gonna march right up to Bob's fat face and tell him I'm outta here for good. I can't take this bullshit any longer." Prue took a long, hard drag on her Pall Mall cigarette, her brow knotted from intense thoughts.

She was sitting on the ground in the back alley behind the diner she waitressed at, Little Billy's, accompanied by another waitress she'd become close friends with over the last five years of working there, Tammy. The two were on their lunch break at present, though it was coming fast to an end. Tammy, who was hovering nearby, chuckled and shook her head at the asphalt.

"No you won't."

"Wanna make a bet?"

"Prue, just stop, okay?" Tammy threw her an aggravated look. "You've already invested this much time here, it would be stupid to walk out now. Hell, get in good with Bob, he may consider handing the business over to you one day."

Prue snorted, flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette.

"Yeah, in my dreams."

"Why not?" the other woman shrugged. "He ain't got no kids that I know of. The rest of his family either lives out of state or are estranged. You have a pretty decent shot the way I see it. All ya gotta do is straighten up the attitude and-"

"He treats people like shit, Tammy. I've dealt with his crap for five years now and I'm running out of patience. The last thing I'm gonna do is give him blow jobs to snag his shitty-ass business from him when he kicks the bucket one day."

Tammy sighed in defeat, sticking her hands in her pants' pockets.

"Well, whatever you decide to do, good luck. Where would you plan to go next if you truly leave here?"

Prue inhaled her cigarette for a few seconds, then pulled it out and exhaled through her nose. She shook her head, running her free hand back through her firey curls.

"I don't know, I'll find some place, somewhere... I have a knack for finding money, remember? Where there's a job opening, there's a way to get dough."

Tammy laughed. "Glad you're optimistic. Still don't think you'll leave, though."

Prue finished her cigarette and tossed it away in a dirty puddle a few feet in front of her. She checked her watch, then got to her feet.

"Time's up, girlfriend. It's back to the pits of hell once more for us."

"You crack me up, Lady." Tammy said without an ounce of laughter.

Prue brushed her bottom off, then took the rubberband off of her wrist and tied her hair back. Tammy was holding the door open, checking her nails as she waited on her friend.

"Thanks, Babe." Prue squeezed the other waitress' shoulder when she passed by and went inside.

When the workday had finally come to its end for Prue, she was more than ready to go home and curl up in bed. The day had been all right, no one had screamed at her or "forgot" to leave a tip, so she could live with it. It was more of her boss' way of reminding her of just how much of a worthless piece of shit she was. He'd grind her gears until they were all but spent, then suddenly turn it around and practically confess his enduring love for her, ripping the guilt out of her soul by stating that the place would fall apart without her there. They had a complicated love-hate type of relationship, but Prue was ready to break it very soon. She wasn't getting any younger and to be honest, she didn't deserve to be treated like an irresponsible teenager after all the things she's dealt with in her past. Locking up the front door while Tammy turned out the main lights, Prue spotted the full moon through the swiftly moving clouds in the night sky. It appeared that the overcast had broken up earlier.

"All set, Piper?"

Prue started, turning away from the door, keys jingling in her hand.

"Yeah, let's get the hell out of this dump."

The two women changed into their regular clothing, boxed up whatever food was let over from that day, locked up the back door and headed to their vehicles.

"Hey, you should come over later to the house. Roy's making lasagne and stuffed peppers. We can eat, then watch some scary movies if ya want." Tammy offered, unlocking her car's doors.

"I don't know, Tam. I think I'm just gonna head home," Prue unlocked her minivan likewise, opened the door and threw her purse, stained uniform and leftovers dinner into the passenger seat. "I'm having some bad cramps."

"Gonna start your period?"

"Probably," she faced Tammy, gripping the open door with her right hand. "Besides, I have to get up early tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah! You're going to pick up your boys from Asshole's, aren't you? I totally forgot about that. Sorry, Prue." Tammy made a face full of sympathy for her friend.

Prue shrugged. There wasn't anything to say in all honesty.

"Well, hope it all goes well tomorrow. I'll be praying for you, Pipes."

"Thanks, Tam. See ya on Wednesday."

"Okay, I'll call you tonight. Drive safe! We wouldn't want another close encounter with Officer Hotpants now, would we?" Tammy warned with a loud snicker, getting into her Impala.

"Shut up!" Prue shot back, a smile fighting for a place on her lips.

She also got into her vehicle, closed and locked the door. Starting the engine, she turned the blaring radio off and sat for a minute in silence, thinking. Some moments passed her, but she didn't make note of them. Reaching up to the sun visor, pulling it down, her eyes found what she sought. Her fingers pried the photo from the rubberband that held it there and brought it close to her. It was an older photo by the signs of wear on it. In it there were two boys, neither of them beyond the age of ten years old. Both had straw-colored hair, buzzed-cut, big smiles and bright eyes. Both had her hazel eyes, but that was about it. Everything else belonged to their father. Pushing the thought of her ex-husband out of her mind, Prue focused more on the photo. It had been taken on Christmas day ten years ago. Their last real Christmas together. Her fingers brushed over the boys, her expression tender, yearning.

"I'm sorry, babies. I'm so sorry." she whispered, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were beginning to stream down her cheeks.

After a couple more minutes of silent grieving, she stuck the photo in the rubberband around the visor and folded it back up. Sniffling, she put the van into reverse and backed out of her spot, speaking softly to herself as she did.

"Someday things will get better. I promise. I promise."

* * *

A/N: Not much in this first chapter/prologue thing, but things will be more interesting in the next installment. Reviews are always appreciated. ;) *hint, hint*


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Hey there everyone! So we had the slow-moving prologue last time, now here's a more (hopefully more) active and fun chapter that I forced myself to update tonight, because I know it's kind of necessary in getting the story going as a whole. I'd like to note that once in a while I will throw in a flashback at the beginning of a chapter to detail Prue's backstory and how the outbreak was for her, leading up to when, where and how she became a part of the group. Also, in this chapter, and story as a whole, I may have changed some scenes and lines to meet my needs, just an FYI for any nitpickers.

One more thing... A special thanks to Nellie Nightshade, for being my first review! She's setting a good example kids, now follow it!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. It is the sole property of Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman, AMC, and everyone else involved with it that gets paid to do so. I just like it a lot basically.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

_Four Weeks and Two Days Later..._

It was getting hot sitting up on the damn rooftop with the sun beating down like the ozone layer never existed, and listening to the ringing gunshots and hooting and hollering of a backwoods neanderthal certainly didn't help to brighten Prue Bennet's previously damaged mood. She did what she could to keep herself calm and not try to kill the man right then and there with her bare hands, by swiping out a fresh Pall Mall cigarette from her shirt pocket. Lighting it with a match from a brand new pack of matches she'd nabbed from a ransacked convenient store two days beforehand, the woman stuck the stick between her chapped lips and sucked hard. The intake of nicotine filled her system and worked like magic in soothing her nerves.

"Oop! Shit, I missed that one! Slippery fuckers, those walkers." the man on the ledge of the building shouted suddenly, causing Prue to jump, nearly losing her cigarette.

"Would you quit it, _please? _You're gonna create a mile-wide mob down there." she called over to him, irritated, the smoke from her lungs exiting through her nostrils and mouth.

"Cool your pussy, Fox! I got this." he replied, firing his shotgun again.

The woman resented his uneducated-white-male manners, but had learned to ignore him and hold her tongue for the sake of their group. All they had was each other, there was no sense in starting trouble when the world's gone to complete hell. Speaking of which, she wondered when the others would make a return. Hopefully soon. She wasn't sure if she could take the heat and stupidity much longer.

"You're gonna have a lot of pissed off people on your hands once they learn you've been shooting up here and attracting all them flesh-eaters below, Dixon." she warned him lightly, dragging on her Pall Mall like there was no tomorrow.

Which wouldn't be too far from the truth these days...

The man whose name was Merle Dixon guffawed, looking back at her with a cocky grin, laid his finger on the trigger a few more times just to spite her. He hacked and spat over the ledge at the walking dead swarming the streets.

"And what makes you think I give a rat's ass? Hmm?"

"I know you don't. I'm just stating facts. That's all."

Merle only shook his head, going straight back to his brainless antics. Prue could have counted off her fingers the number of seconds later the group decided to show up, all grimacing in the redneck's direction as they filed onto the rooftop.

"Hey, Dixon, are you fucking crazy?!" one of them, an hispanic man, Morales, yelled angrily.

"Yes. Yes he is." Prue mumbled to herself, trying to blend in with her surroundings.

The group gathered around him, seething with rage, but Merle simply laughed his careless laugh and turned to face them, casually pointing his gun with one hand, as if it were one of those punishing sticks teachers used to tote around in school long ago.

"I say, you oughta be more polite to a man with a gun! Doncha think?" said he, smirking.

"Man, you wasting bullets we ain't even got!" another piped, a muscular black man who called himself T-Dog.

Prue knew that as soon as T-Dog opened his mouth, things would get ugly. Fast. She watched as he leapt across the piping, landing some feet away in front of Merle, praying that he would just stop now and prevent any violence that could possibly ensue. He didn't, of course.

"And you're bringin' even more of them down on our ass! Chill, man! Just chill!" he thought he was being reasonable.

Merle did not. He hopped down from the ledge and stalked over to meet T-Dog, clearly irked.

"Hey! Bad enough I've got this taco-bender on my ass all day!" he jabbed his thumb at Morales, who was standing close behind T-Dog. "Now I'm gonna take orders from _you? _No, no, no, I don't think so, Bro. That'll be the day."

"That'll be the _day?" _T-Dog repeated, cocking his head. "You got somethin' ya wanna tell me? Huh?"

"Ah, shit..." Prue groaned, smashing her cigarette butt out against the wall of the ledge.

Morales, always the peace-keeper, tried to intervene.

"Hey, T-Dog, Man, listen, just cool it. He ain't worth it-"

"No!" T-Dog barked. "I wanna hear what he has to say!"

Merle moved in, practically pushing Morales to the side, and got right up in T-Dog's face, grinning maliciously.

"You want to know the day?" he said yet again, except it sounded more like a threat this time.

T-Dog nodded, pumped for anything it seemed.

"Yeah!"

"I'll tell ya the day, Mr. _"Yo". _It's the day I take orders from a fuckin' nigger!"

And shit surely got real after that. T-Dog made for a hit at Merle's face, but the white man saved himself with his gun to block the attack. He then busted it under T-Dog's chin, throwing him backwards. As the brawl intensified, everyone began panicking, unsure of how to stop it. Prue, having got up from her spot, was stepping back quickly, not wanting to get accidentally clobbered. They were all screaming at them, though Merle's name was heard most often, begging for an end to it. Out of nowhere, this strange cop bounds in, aiming for attack. His actions were more than a little anticlimatic however, when Merle whirled around and slugged him in the face.

"Jesus!" Prue gasped, as the cop hit the gravelly roof roughly.

The fight continued to get worse, with T-Dog taking most of the brunt now. Hit after hit Merle Dixon served him, pushing and pulling him about, until finally shoving him to the ground where he landed on top of him and proceeded to beat the living tar out of the poor man. Prue was close to jumping in herself, since no one else apparently had the balls to do so, but then Dixon brought out his pistol. Silence immediately choked the group, all eyes on the weapon in Merle's hand as he aimed it at T-Dog's forehead. He kept it like that for a minute, before he came to spit on the black man and laugh, rubbing it into his shirt none too gently.

"We're gonna have ourselves a little powwow! Talk about who's in charge!" he stood up, opening his arms out wide, the gun dangling off a finger. "I vote me! Anybody else? How 'bout you, Fox? You don't seem to mind my leadership skills, do ya? Come on people, show of hands! All in favor? Huh?"

Shockingly, Morales' hand rose upward.

"You've gotta be kidding me?" Prue couldn't help but exclaim.

Merle shot her a look, grasping his gun firmly again. Gradually everyone in the group followed Morales' lead, even the headstrong Andrea, which took Prue aback the most.

"How could you all? I mean, _seriously?" _she addressed them with a touch of sadness in her voice, walking over.

Merle growled, pointing the barrel of the gun at her in a flash.

"Seriously, Fire Cunt, you may want to consider joining them. I promise I'll be good to ya... Sometimes."

Prue went on walking, hands in her jeans' back pockets.

"Fuck you and the pick-up clunker you drove in with."

"Oh-ho-ho!" he cocked the pistol, his finger feeling up the trigger. "Ain't she a potty mouth? Too bad I find that unappealing in women. You probably would have been a real treat in bed, Honey. Oh well..."

Just as he was about to take her out, the cop was on him, knocking him down with the butt of his abandoned rifle. Talk about ironic. The gang looked on in amazement while the policeman had Merle handcuffed within moments to one of the various pipes lining the rooftop.

"Who the fuck are you?" Merle snarled, still dazed from the impact.

The cop knelt down, speaking levelly. "Just call me Officer Friendly."

He goes on to lay down a few new rules with Dixon, although anyone who knew anything about the rebel would certainly know that these hollow words would never penetrate his thick skull. Not like a bullet would anyway. That's what Prue would have used instead. No one was really surprised when the cop discovered a bag of cocaine on his person after a quick frisk. The policeman lifted it up between his index and thumb, eying it with revulsion like it were a rotting, dead rat. With a grimace, he rose and crossed the rooftop to the ledge in a few long strides, chucking the baggy over the side of the building.

"Hey! That's my stuff! You stupid fucking pig!" Merle cried, straining against his restraint.

"We won't have none of that either," the cop pivoted around, hands resting on his hips. "If anyone has a problem with anything I've said, please, speak your peace now."

"I'll tell you, I have a _fucking _problem with _all _of it-" Merle began to complain hotly.

"Excluding you!" Prue cut across him.

Speaking up like that, she had accidentally called the cop's attention onto herself. That's when they both recognized each other for the first time. His bright blue eyes, her blazing red hair.

Prue's mouth twitched to the left and she crossed her arms.

"Hey, Sheriff..."

"Hi," he was plainly smiling, happy to see a familiar face, even if he'd only met her once before for a mere ten minutes. "You survived."

She gave a terse nod. The others became curious of the two, inching over to where Prue was standing.

"You know this guy?" Andrea, a blond woman not much older than Prue, inquired next to her.

"Not really."

"Yes!"

Prue gave the sheriff a dirty look when he answered the question that was meant for her at exactly the same time as she did. There was an exaggerated snort from Merle then, making the redhead turn her icy gaze on him.

"Well ain't that cute. The fox and the pig. Sounds kinda like a cheap porno. Send me the tape sometime, won't cha, Sweetheart?" he blew a mock kiss at Prue.

"Oh, that's hilarious, Dixon. Jesus, I'm dying of laughter over here. Slow down, will ya? Fuck you." she flipped him the bird violently.

"You sure? In front of all these people? Damn, you _are_ bold, aren't ya, Fire Cunt?"

"Okay, that's enough!" the sheriff snapped at Dixon, taking a few steps towards him, his gun raised slightly for emphasis. "You need to just keep your mouth shut, alright?"

"Or what?" Merle questioned, smiling darkly. "You gonna arrest me? Throw me in jail?"

"Merle, just stop, will you? Please?" Morales came forward, not wanting another fight to happen so soon after the first.

"Ha! You want me to stop? You blow that motherfucker's brains out right now and maybe then I'll consider your wish, but until then it ain't gonna happen. So zip it, Wetback."

"Keep going, Slimeball! Keep putting everyone down! The same people who let you in. Let me ask you something, where's all your KKK buddies? Huh? 'Cause it don't look like they're helping you out much right now, does it?" Prue taunted him coldly.

This seemed to have struck a nerve in Merle somewhere, surprisingly enough. His brow lowered dramatically, his mouth became a thin white line, his breathing loud through his nose. If looks could kill, they would all be completely obliterated.

"None of you pricks _let me in! I _let _myself _in! Y'all think yourselves smarter and better than me, but how long will all you pansies last in this world? I can tell ya, not long! Hell, you think I'm such a dick, why not kill me right now? Do it! Go on!" he paused, searching every one of their faces, smirking to himself with satisfaction. "That's what I thought. Pussies. Can't even kill a guy you hate. That's messed up. Well, I ain't messed up. Soon as I'm free from these, you and your pig friend there better be miles ahead if you want to live a little longer."

Though he spoke to them all, it was Prue that his steel eyes were latched onto for the most part. She swallowed, turning her back on him. She wasn't about to show him her fear.

"Don't listen to him," she heard Morales tell the sheriff. "He's all talk mostly."

"I figured." the sheriff nodded, looking away.

He then wandered off to the opposite side of the roof, ignoring Merle's further obscenities. Morales went to join him, chatting it up a bit. He was good at that. The others went about helping T-Dog up from where he'd been laying, checking his wounds, making sure he felt right.

"You poor guy." Prue sighed heavily as she brushed dirt off his clothing.

The big man cracked a mischievous smile.

"It's not so bad when you got beautiful women tending to you."

The redhead smacked his arm playfully, biting back a grin.

"H-hey! Ow, that actually hurt!" he whined, rubbing the spot. "Haven't I been dealt enough already?"

"Sorry, but you asked for it, Babe. Maybe you'll know better next time than to hit on me."

"God, it's like Times Square down there." came Andrea's quaking voice at that moment, catching Prue's ears.

The woman looked and seen the other two females of the group near the ledge, peeking over it cautiously.

"Why do you do that to yourself?" she asked, sauntering up to them.

The two women regarded Prue. Andrea gave a distinct huff.

"Do what, Piper?" she returned.

"Look at those things."

Andrea twisted her head around to look at Prue, annoyance written in her facial lines.

"When do we _not _look at those things?"

"You're up here, not down there. Take advantage of that! Let your eyes have a break, Girl. You need it." Prue reasoned gently, resting her hand on Andrea's shoulder.

The blond rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"Oh God, you're starting to sound like Dale!" she groaned.

Prue laughed, giving her a pinch under the arm.

"Ow!" Andrea squeaked, jerking away. "What the hell, Piper?!"

"Don't talk about Dale like that. He's a good man, Andrea."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make him any less irritating... Kind of like _you." _

Prue frowned at her.

"Piper's right, Andrea. We shouldn't be looking down there," the third female, a middle-aged black woman named Jacqui, interjected. "What good will it do us?"

"So, the cop?" Andrea abruptly switched the topic on them.

"Uh, what?" Prue raised an eyebrow at her.

Andrea simpered, turning so that she could lean back on the ledge with her arms.

"How do you two know each other?"

"I only know him because he pulled me over four weeks ago for speeding. That's it."

"Huh, that's odd, considering how he was ogling you."

"Oh, pfft! Please keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, okay?"

"Excuse me, I am _not _perverted!" Andrea shot back defensively. "But apparently _you're _blind. Did you seriously not notice?"

"Of course I noticed. I'm a well-seasoned woman when it comes to men," Prue puffed out her chest proudly, earning a second eye-roll from the blond. "I just don't give a shit about dick anymore."

"Oh jeez..." Jacqui said under her breath, folding her arms over her chest.

Andrea gaped at Prue for a moment, blinking a few times.

"Of course you don't," she eventually responded in a sardonic tone. "I'd say this conversation is all but spent."

"I agree." the redhead nodded once.

"I also agree." Jacqui put up her hand in a joking way.

All three women giggled at this. Regaining their composure, they convened with the men then to get informed on the next plan of action that they would take. Apparently straight walking the streets was a no-go since Merle riled up the walkers stalking the city, but the sheriff reminded them of a second option: trekking underground byway the sewers. The group wasted no time and ran back inside the building to find the opening into the drainage system that Jacqui was sure would be there, for she'd once worked for the city's zoning department. T-Dog exchanged positions with Prue, so that he kept watch over Merle and would try to find a signal on the walkie, while she went with the others this time.

"Here it is." Morales announced when they found the way into the sewer beneath the building.

"Good thing we have you here, Jacqui." Prue gave her back a pat.

"So, someone's gotta go down there, huh?" the youngest member of their scouting party voiced the singular thought on all their minds.

There was a beat as the older adults considered his words, then all turned to stare at him simultaneously. The young Korean man, Glenn, raised his head and saw their expectant expressions. His heart sunk to his curled up toes.

"Oh..." he licked his lips nervously, starting to nod. "Yeah, fine. I understand."

Readying himself to climb down the ladder, he seen the sheriff making to follow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! No offense, but I think you'd be better suited up here than down there, what with your good shooting and all. Morales can come with me. Andrea, you should go with him since you have a gun too. Jacqui can stay here and keep us updated while we're below."

Someone cleared their throat loudly.

"Oh! Yeah, of course, Piper," Glenn laughed sheepishly. "You can-"

"I'll go with Andrea and Officer Friendly." she cut him off sharply.

* * *

One would think that it would be a girl's dream to be able to pick all of the clothes that she wanted for free, but there was just something terribly foreboding about shopping in an abandoned department store with maneating monsters clawing at the windows outside. Still, Prue figured she should make the best of the situation at hand. Humming to herself, she weaved through the maze of circular clothing racks that took up most of the space on this floor, running her fingers along the materials, stopping at those that piqued her interest. She overheard Andrea apologizing to the sheriff some feet away, something to do with pointing a gun at his face. Prue grinned secretly, eying a dazzling cream blouse. Sounded like something Andrea would do. She firmly believed that the blond should be restricted from any type of firearm due to her frequent emotional breakdowns and lack of self control. Prue didn't even fully trust herself with a gun yet. In fact, she'd gone on this trip in the absence of a weapon. All she carried at present that was perhaps closest in protection for herself was her old pepper spray bottle and that pack of matches mentioned earlier. Just thinking about it made her laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I'm just an idiot, that's all," she answered airily, already knowing who it was before turning to him. "What's up with you, Sheriff?"

"Nothing much," he smiled closed-lip. "Just surviving the apocalypse."

"Aren't we all?" the woman put to question, then resumed her browsing.

He followed her. "So your name's Piper-?"

"Prue."

"Prue?"

"Bennet."

He took this in, storing it away into his memory bank.

"Prue Bennet, that's an interesting name. But, I thought I heard Glenn call you Piper?"

"He did. It's my nickname."

"Oh," his head bobbed, his bottom lip folding inward. "I understand."

"And you? Let me guess-" she halted, tapping her chin. "Alexander."

The sheriff chortled uneasily. "Actually, it's Rick. Rick Grimes."

"Rick? You seem more like an Alexander to me. Oh well, close enough."

There was a distinct giggle from Andrea across the store, causing both to look towards her. The blond's back was to them while she gawked at the jewelry section.

"See something you like?" Sheriff Rick Grimes loudly inquired.

Her ponytail slung back and forth when she shook her head.

"If we do and we take it, what are you gonna do about it, Sheriff?" Prue wondered with her saucy attitude showing quite blatantly.

The man's head snapped around to find the redhead again, unbeknownst to how his eyes captivated her so. They stared down each other for a second or two before he spoke first, his voice strangely soft.

"Nothing."

Whatever kind of "moment" they'd been sharing was destroyed at the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. All three whipped around in the direction of the front entry doors. One clever walker had managed to break the glass with a rock and now they were working on the last two doors that separated them from the living within.

"Fuck..." Prue breathed, her eyes widening and heart racing.

Rick noticed her change in emotions. Burning suspicion was in an instant replaced by utter terror in her enormous hazel eyes. It moved him somehow.

"Stay calm, it'll be alright." he gripped her shoulder firmly, giving it a shake.

Her eyes darted to his and he could see the raw doubt screaming in them. It was then that Glenn, Morales and Jacqui appeared, all three breathless.

"What did you find down there?" Andrea asked, fear apparent in her faintly raised voice.

Morales, sweaty and a little pale, shook his head at her.

"Definitely not a way out."

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Review!


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: I don't have much to say right now, because it's two o'clock in the morning where I am and I really do feel like a zombie. I may be nitpicking myself, but I did realize that I coined Rick as sheriff, when in fact he's a deputy. My bad! I always like to be as accurate as possible, so please, if you guys notice any other mistakes, alert me of them and I will correct what I can.

Shout-outs to Nellie Nightshade again and Psycho-Jellybean for reviewing! You guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Walking Dead' or any of its related characters. Those are all property of Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman, AMC and all others who hold copyright to this franchise. However, all original characters made up in this story, like Prue Bennet, are mine.

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

The sun was setting quicker than anyone cared for, its last warm rays hidden by the dense wood that encircled half of where the fair-looking campsite was located. As it did, the members of the group gradually began to draw nearer to each other out of fear of the night approaching. Some were making preparations for supper, setting up a tiny bonfire in the midst of the camp with the permission of their leader Shane Walsh, a one-time police officer. Off to one lonely corner of the camp there was a light blue minivan, in which resided a red-haired woman and her faithful canine companion. Prue wanted alone time with her pitbull Viggo for a while after being gone all day and almost dying. She hated to still feel shaken by the earlier events, but could not deny it when every time she went to stand she got the urge to vomit. Huddled up in the back of her van with Viggo guarding in the driver's seat, Prue blinked away impending tears, trying to forget how dumb she'd been. How could she have gone out there without a gun? It was beyond stupid. Because of her ignorance she'd also caused great humiliation for herself.

How could she? After all this time she'd imagined herself a stronger, smarter woman, capable of taking care of her own business.

Her entire body tensed at the fresh memory of the walker attack. Its putrid, rotting smell she feared would permanently linger in her nasal cavity for all of eternity. Bloody jaws snapping down at her relentlessly, clouded eyes rolling in their sockets. It had literally been a living nightmare and she was sure that if Rick Grimes hadn't been there, she would be more than just a goner. A gentle rap at the minivan's door roused her from her morbid thoughts. She lifted her head to peek out the tinted back window and was disappointed to see who was disturbing her. Hushing Viggo, who'd gone on a ferocious barking rampage, Prue climbed into the second row of seats, scooted over top of one to reach the door and slid it back.

"Hey, how ya doing?" Rick asked in a low voice.

Prue frowned at him. "Are you not suppose to be seeing me or something?"

"Come again?"

"Why are you whispering?"

"I'm not."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Look, all I wanted to know is how you were doing. Your, uh, your friends were wondering why you went to hide in here. They're starting to worry about you-"

"I'm fine! Jesus, can't I fucking rest without the whole world getting on my ass?" she exploded, glaring daggers at the policeman. "When in the hell did I say those people were my friends anyway?!"

With that, she slammed the door shut and locked herself up inside the van once more. Her eyes stayed attached to Rick from within as she curled up in the far back of the minivan like before, until he shook his head and retreated to the more agreeable people of the group. This left her alone again, with only Viggo as company, which she preferred above all else. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, she blinked and sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself. The pitbull, hearing his owner's soft crying, made his way back to her. His tail wagged like it always did as he cuddled next to her, the best way he could provide comfort without the use of words. For Prue, it was all she needed. Just a loving touch. Nothing more, nothing less. Sitting there with Viggo, the sullen woman gradually dozed off, her mind brooding over the same scene again and again, of how she could have died. How she could have become one of those things. How she'd been rescued by a man she didn't know-twice in one day.

* * *

_~Two and a half hours earlier~_

* * *

"If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold."

"Could not have said it better myself, Glenn." Prue sighed shakily, standing close to him.

So it turned out that they were stranded in the department store building due to the walker herd that had blasted through the front doors about five minutes ago. The result was the policeman taking about as drastic of measures as you could imagine. They'd explained to him the big differences between the living and the walkers, and how they were drawn to the living. It was common sense if a person really thought about it. Dead people were smelly as hell and living people were not. Well, most of the time anyway. Good advice that was taken to heart by the cop. The group watched with severe apprehension whilst he gathered all of the necessary supplies for his diabolical plan. Prue felt certain that she was on the brink of freaking out, though she stood tough for the others, especially Andrea, who had tears in her eyes.

"He's right!" Morales marched up to the crazy cop. "Stop and take some time to think this through, okay?"

Rick momentarily ceased his actions and looked hard at the fretful hispanic man.

"How much time? They already got through one set of doors. That glass won't hold forever."

It was Morales that helped Rick collect a dead walker body from the alley a minute later, as reluctant as he still was about the idea. The two men heaved the body through the door and along the floor until they laid it down in the middle of the department store's storage room. Silence fell upon the gang; all eyes glued to the motionless walker sprawled on the floor. Taking initiative, Rick broke the glass box of an emergency hatchet and brought it over. Adorned with a faceshield and a long, white lab coat, the cop gripped the handle of the hatchet tightly, his jaw set. He shot forward, raising the tool high, but hesitated at the last second. He backed up a couple of feet from the cadaver, ripping the faceshield off. Unexpectedly, he approached the body again and crouched beside it, searching through its ragged, blood-soaked clothing. Producing a wallet, he opened it and looked inside. Prue could see his features soften as he did this.

"Wayne Dunlap. That was his name," the sheriff's deputy spoke with stiffness. "He died with twenty-eight dollars in his wallet. Had a picture of a pretty girl."

He took the photo out and flipped it around to see the back.

"With love, Rachel." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"He used to be like us. Worrying about paying the bills, keeping a job, the superbowl..."

Glenn, who'd taken the wallet from Rick, swallowed, lifting his head. He watched the policeman gather the hatchet back in his hands and rise up. Before Rick went to work, he quickly added,

"He was an organ donor."

Everyone's hearts skipped a beat at the revelation. Rick pinned his lips, his fingers fastening on the wooden handle of the hatchet. He closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness from whatever God there was, and summoning all the strength and anger he possibly could from within himself, uplifted the hatchet and swung it downward onto the abdomen of the dead walker. Prue grimaced and looked away from the gruesome scene as the man hacked the body apart. He did this for a good five minutes, then halted, unlatched the faceshield and handed it and the hatchet over to Morales, his face pale. Morales did the same until he staggered back, dropping the hatchet, throwing the faceshield off, panting hard. On Rick's command, they all joined in digging out all of the guts and gore from the walker mush.

"Jesus, this is so fucking wrong." Prue muttered under her breath, helping in smearing the bloody mess on Glenn and Rick, the chosen ones for the dirty job.

"Oh, God, Oh God-" the young Korean man spun around and vomited.

Andrea, more than a little disturbed by all of this, gave Rick a horror-stricken look.

"That is just evil, what is wrong with you?"

The policeman said nothing. He was trying to keep from puking all over the place as well. Realizing that what they had done so far was not enough, he bent and shakily picked the hatchet back up. The others gaped at him, not willing to see the body chopped further.

He ignored their fearful stares, focusing on the task at hand.

"We-we need more guts."

Once the two men were fully covered in Wayne Dunlap's entrails, and Andrea had given Glenn her gun for extra protection, they made for the exit door.

"Hold on!"

The two came to a stop and looked back over their shoulders with questionable faces.

"Maybe I should go too." Prue had her arms crossed, an expression of stone.

"What?!" Andrea cried, stomping over to the redhead. "Are you kidding? Why? Isn't two of us bad enough?"

"Back off, Andrea."

"Come on, Piper, don't start your shit." Morales warned, his patience worn thin from the string of ordeals he'd just been through.

Prue whirled around, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You just shut up! The only person starting shit is you. If I wanted to jump off a balcony, it's my own Goddamned business."

"Piper, please, let's just be reasonable-" Jacqui began gently.

"Don't give me your _reasonable _crap!" the younger woman snapped. "Weren't you the people who were ready to kiss Dixon's ass? Huh? That didn't seem too _reasonable _to me."

"He'd just beaten T-Dog! We were scared and shocked, Piper." Andrea reasoned, though there was guilt glimmering in her sky blue eyes.

"Which should have been all the more reason to tell him to fuck himself when he appointed his sorry ass king." Prue countered evenly.

"I don't want Glenn going alone with you," she pointed an accusing finger at Rick. "Regardless of you cuffing Dickhead up there, you're a stranger to us. And I don't know about y'all, but I'm not tossing my trust to just any guy that waltzes in with a badge. Especially in these times."

"I saved your life. That man was going to shoot you," he reminded her gruffly, facing her. "I should think that'd be a good enough excuse for trusting me."

"Dixon's a bastard, but he would not have wasted a piece of pussy, I can tell you that," the firey woman glowered at him. "Who's to say that once you find that vehicle out there you won't drop Glenn like a bad habit and skedaddle."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I can't risk that."

She pivoted and strode purposefully back to the mangled walker body, rubbing whatever was left onto her lab coat. The group watched her in grim silence, except for Andrea who, with an exasperated sigh, went to aid her. From across the room Rick stared at the redhaired woman, perturbed. He had to fight every fiber of his being from rebuking Prue's decision. It agitated him, but what right did he really have in keeping her here anyway? They didn't know each other personally; there was no intimate bond between them to produce any sort of genuine concern. Plus, although it may have been immature on his part, he would like her to go just so she could get a little scare by the walkers. She deserved it after the lack of appreciation she'd shown for him preventing a bullet going into her head. He didn't believe her 'Dixon wouldn't have shot me' bullshit for one moment.

"Well, there you are," Andrea muttered gloomily, setting her hands on each of Prue's shoulders. "Please, do try not to get killed out there. Listen to Rick and don't argue."

Prue shrugged her off and wordlessly walked away. The remaining members crept behind the three as they opened the door to step outside. Rick, holding the door, looked around at Prue.

"Ladies first." he swept his arm out.

She glared daggers at him, then strolled past with Glenn trailing behind. The door closed as soon as Rick stepped past the threshold and they were left alone with the thousands of mindless walkers roaming the deserted city of Atlanta. It was a horrid sight to behold on ground level. For a moment they stood on the spot, getting a grip on their individual fears. Rick was the one to move first at long last, followed second by Prue and third by a very unwilling Glenn. Inching their way along the road at a painfully slow rate, the three did their very best to steer clear of the wandering walkers, weeving in and out of the many clumps that shuffled aimlessly about the street. The time dragged and what was in reality ten minutes seemed more like two hours for them making the route to the construction site. As she walked in between the two males, Prue's eyes side-glanced the older one. Rick's focus was entirely trained ahead, bent on reaching their destination. He was mentally thanking his lucky stars for his plan to have worked so smoothly thus far. Prue's eyes shifted to Glenn. The young man had an ill look, most likely holding down more vomit. He started at someone's hand intertwining with his own, eyes darting down to the side where his hung, then following the smaller one's arm up to its owner. Prue gave him a tiny, encouraging smile, squeezing his hand to reassure him that she was there and wasn't about to leave. The twenty-something year old man scarcely nodded, having no strength to return the kind gesture, then slowly turned to look onward as before.

On they trekked, step by agonizing step. The further they got, the more dense the crowd of walkers became. The trio unconsciously drew tighter together, the whites of their eyes showing as terror engulfed them. The dead would bump them on occasion, letting out threatening snarls when they did, making Glenn and Prue shake in their boots. Rick was the only one who wouldn't let on his growing anxiety; however, it was rapidly becoming difficult to do. Just when things were starting to get hairy, the three spotted the telltale chainlink fence that lined the construction area as they came over a small hill in the street.

"It's gonna work." Glenn muttered to the older adults, his eyes lit with hope.

"Keep quiet!" Prue whispered urgently, feeling the presence of a walker stalking them.

Glenn bit his lip. The walker behind them, once a brunette female, hovered about him, sniffing near his ear. Rick and Prue both held their breath, dreading the worst, when Glenn suddenly thought of the ingenious idea to moan at the nosy walker. The female walker, almost seeming to take the hint, stepped away from him, stumbling off in the opposite direction. If they hadn't been in such a precarious situation, Prue would have given him a high-five for that awesome move. Shaking off one geek brought more for the picking seconds later though, unfortunately. All at once they closed in, snuffling, snarling, rubbing up against the humans. It felt like being in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by starving sharks yearning for the taste of fresh meat. Prue prayed that they did not catch on to their scents beneath the guts they wore. It had worked like a charm so far. If it could just work a smidgen longer...

Something cold and wet striked the end of Prue's nose. She blinked, knowing it had to be water, but from where...? Another cold pellet hit her cheek, then her nose again, and it suddenly dawned on her that it was rain. Her gaze drifted upward to the dark, swirling clouds overhead. More water droplets landed on her face. It was raining. The thunder rumbled ominously, making her jump. Rick noticed and nudged her arm. She looked at him with enlarged eyes. There was a warning in her marvelous hazel orbs that Rick could not understand until the downpour was unleashed upon them. The heavy, vicious rain was certainly no friend to them in this circumstance, as it swiftly washed away most of the bloody disguise that had done well in keeping their true identities a secret up to now.

"Shit." Glenn hissed, the hopeful light in his eyes extinguished.

"Keep calm, Glenn." said Prue, her voice cracking.

"_How?"_

"Maybe they won't notice?" Ricked offered weakly.

A walker practically hanging off of Glenn snorted loudly at that exact moment, a deep growl issuing from its throat. It sounded oddly suspicious and knowing. The other walkers caught on in an instant, hobbling over to join the one who'd revealed the living among them. All three hearts sunk.

"Or maybe they will!" Prue shoved off a geek that was making to gnaw on her shoulder.

"Run!" Rick ordered, swinging his hatchet into the head of another.

Bolting for the fence that lay out a good two hundred feet or so away from where they stood, the three barely managed to escape the charging hoard that had drawn upon them in a matter of seconds. It always amazed Rick at how fast a decaying person could run. The hoard was on their heels, arms outstretched and grasping at the air in the hopes of catching one of them for a meal. Glenn, kicking up his speed a notch, reached the gate before Rick and Prue. He rattled it, but it wouldn't budge, for it was padlocked.

"Come on!" he yelled to his older comrades with pleading urgency.

Rick and Prue ran up, both of their bodies slamming into the fence due to the highspeed they were traveling at, gasping for breath.

"It's locked!" exclaimed Glenn.

"Climb! We climb it!" Rick was already scaling the chainlink fence as he said this.

Glenn had no objections and hurried after him, but Prue hesitated.

The men, landing on the other side, were astounded to see that she hadn't yet moved.

Rick grabbed the fence violently, roaring at her,

"Prue! Climb the damn fence! _NOW!"_

"I can't!" she cried in tears.

"_DO IT!"_

The sheer powerful tone of his command propelled her forward to leap onto the fence, and just in the nick of time too, as the herd had caught up with them. The woman could feel the fence rock and vibrate with the walkers beating on it below, some even trying to grab a hold of her feet, but she was quicker than they were and she scrambled up to the top with unexpected ease. Without a second thought, she swung herself over the top in a moment of panic, the fall luckily intercepted by Rick. There was a strangled yelp that came from her the moment her boots hit the ground and she doubled over.

"My ankle!" she hung off of Rick, letting out an ear-piercing shriek when a walker hand shot at her through one of the holes in the fence.

The cop grit his teeth, leading her in a circle so that their backs were to the geeks. They speedily shed there ghastly costumes and continued their mission. Prue leant on Rick, keeping up as best she could on the run across the site to the warehouse in the midst of it, where Glenn snagged a set of keys from a box hanging on the outside of the building. The keys went to a delivery van that sat parked twenty feet away.

"Get in, get in!" Rick pressed, yanking the passenger door open for Prue.

Glenn helped her up and he scooted in beside her so that they shared the seat. He went to shut the door, gasping at the sight of a walker racing up to them. It clawed at the window the second after he'd closed the door, saliva mixed with blood dangling from its wide open mouth. Rick hopped into the driver's seat, slamming his door with unintended force, jammed the key into the ignition and revved up the engine. The van came to life and they zipped out of the other end of the construction site, missing the hoard that had brought down the fence not a minute later.

They drove on down some back streets of the city for some time, eventually coming upon a brand new Dodge Challenger. Rick stopped the van and got out with Glenn to hotwire the abandoned car. While they did that, Prue leaned her head back on the headrest of the seat and allowed herself to cry. The pain in her ankle was absolutely torturous, she surmised it to be broken or fractured at least. Out of nowhere her left arm was seized roughly; at the same time there came a gurgling, guttural noise that made the woman's head spin around. A wild, terrified scream erupted from her lips and she ripped her arm out of the unwelcomed walker's dead hands before it could sink its crooked teeth into her flesh.

In her frenzy to escape, she fell right out of the vehicle's door that Glenn had thoughtlessly left open. Her back hit the pavement and she lay there for a moment stunned, not realizing the walker was crawling right out after her. It dumbly dropped on top of her, its heavy impact bringing her back to reality. She screeched, fruitlessly fighting to get away, but it weighed more than it looked and its strength outmatched hers. Its murky, sallow eyes bulged unnaturally, its bony, battered fingers gracing her face, spit flying from its yammering, rancid jaws; it wanted so badly to eat her.

This was it, she was going to die, turn and then probably be chopped in the head with that cop's hatchet. She couldn't even remember why she'd come along with them in the first place now. The redhead closed her eyes, accepting her fate, when suddenly she felt the weight of the walker leave her. There was growling and grunting and then the stomach-churning sound of bone being smashed. She didn't want to open her eyes she was so scared, but her body was lifted from the ground jerkily, automatically causing her to look about. Rick basically threw her back into the delivery van and shut the door.

Thoroughly disturbed, Prue sat limply in the passenger seat as he drove, a petrified look in her eyes that were as big as the biggest dinner plates. Rick, strenuously breathing, looked over at her. He found himself unsettled by her state.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked her gently, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and her. "Prue? Are you okay, Hon?"

He didn't mean to use the affectionate pet name on her; it was just something he did whenever talking to a person that was hurt or in trouble. It was a natural thing for him. When she did not answer and kept staring out the windshield blankly, he decided to press harder.

"Prue, did you get bit or scratched? It's important, so please, you have to tell me."

"No." she croaked.

He nodded, relieved. "How's your ankle?"

"It hurts."

"Yeah, I can imagine," he sighed, not fazed by Glenn careening past in the sports car with its alarm wailing. "You might've of fractured something, because if you had broken it, trust me, you _would _know."

"I can imagine." she repeated his words listlessly.

Rick licked his lips, inquiring tentatively.

"Didn't you have a gun or-or knife, Prue? If ya did, I would advise you to use it next time you get pinned down like that. It was a close call and sometimes if you're not used to defending yourself you can freeze up. I get that, but-"

"I never brought a weapon with me today." she interrupted him, a chilly edge to her tone.

"Oh..."

He said nothing more about it to her, but it was obvious that he did think her irresponsible for carrying no sort of protection. Prue could read it in his face. Laying her head back and rolling it to the right so she could look out the window, the woman rested her hands atop her stomach as a dull ache began to throb within.

* * *

~_Present Time~_

* * *

Knocking at the window of her minivan stirred Prue from her dreamy haze. Viggo woofed, clambering over the seats to peek out at the second intruder of the evening, his tail going crazy.

"Piper?" she heard the muffled voice from outside.

The redhead sat up properly to see who was looking for her.

"Yes, Dale?" she answered, barely concealing her annoyance, the door pulled back enough to only show her face.

"What are you doing?" the older man asked, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

"Just relaxing, why?" she lied.

"Because, you normally would be seated by the fire and talking to Andrea or Amy at this time."

"I'm tired, Dale. The run today was a killer." that was partly true.

"I heard," he paused a moment, scruntinizing her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

"Well, I can tell you, I _am."_

"Then come out here with us."

Prue's expression hardened. "I don't want to, Dale. Not right now."

"Why?" he tilted his head.

"Because, I just don't. Leave me be, please."

"That cop, Rick, he told us what happened. The close encounter, your ankle," his black eyes averted, trying to get a glimpse of her foot. "How's it doing?"

"It's better. I think I just sprained it," the younger woman ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Look, Dale, I appreciate your concern, but, I would rather have some time to myself tonight, okay? Need to clear my head and all that."

"You're upset and sitting cooped up in this van is not going to do anymore help to you than chatting with us. In fact, I think it would be worse."

"Dale-"

"Do what you want, but I will say this, in the sixty years that I have lived on this earth I've found that voicing your problems was the best solution to rid them. Not keeping them to yourself."

He turned to leave, when Prue spoke, making him stop.

"I was a dumbass, Dale! I nearly got mauled because I refused to take that gun with me today. I could be dead or worse right now if... If he hadn't been there."

Dale looked back at her, readjusting the strap of his rifle that was slung over his shoulder.

"You made a mistake, Piper. You're human, I'm human, we're not perfect. None of us were prepared to be hauling around guns before now. _I'm_ still getting used to it. Think of this as a lesson learned. Never do it again. Simple."

She watched him go, knowing he was right. It pissed her off at how that old man could get under her skin. He reminded her of her father in so many ways that it slightly frightened her. The dim glow of the bonfire set ten feet from her vehicle did look inviting as she gazed out. The group members surrounding it conversed in low voices; every once in a while someone would laugh. She knew Rick would be among them. A sharp pang of guilt struck her then at the dawn of realization: she never thanked him.

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A/N: Reviews are always a nice thing to have...


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: Well, firstly I should note that this chapter is not as long as the previous, and secondly, it's more of a filler than anything. A good filler, though, so don't freak out! Or at least I'd like to think that it is. Just a heads up, because I don't think I mentioned this last time, but this story will jump around from time to time, and most likely the beginning of evey chapter from here on out will feature a flashback. The flashbacks will be in chronological order, leading up eventually to present day and time. Flashbacks will have a date prelude and will be italicized too, so there will be no confusion. M'kay? Anywho, that's about all I have to address. Hope you all have enjoyed thus far and continue to do so!

**UPDATE: **I took down this chapter in order to revamp it. I decided to go the non-Lori route. I apologize to those of you who were looking forward to that plot, but hopefully you'll like this one even better. Don't worry, there will still be plenty of catfights and drama.

Shoutouts to Nellie Nightshade, AppoloniaAstria and a guest reader! You guys are astonishing beings! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Walking Dead' or any of its related characters. Those are all property of Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman, AMC and all others who hold copyright to this franchise. However, all original characters made up in this story, like Prue Bennet, are mine.

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_~October 20th, 1993~_

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_"So, you've never done this before? Am I correct?"_

_"Nope-I mean, yes! Yeah, you're correct. I have not."_

_"Okay, well, it's not too complicated-nothing like rocket science or anything. There is only one major rule here: look, but don't touch. Got it?"_

_"Got it. Um, so you think I have what it takes?"_

_"Well, you're pretty enough and have nice curves and are on the shorter side, which men always like to see. Plus, you're a ginger. We have blondes, brunettes but no gingers, so that's an advantage for you right there. But honestly, it's not about what _I _think, it's about what _you _think. If you think you have it, then you have it. If you don't think you have it, well, you probably don't. Say, I almost forgot, what's your name, Honey?"_

_"Prue Bennet."_

_"Yeah, we're gonna have to change that one. Have a nickname?"_

_"Uh, Piper."_

_"Piper's cute, but it's not sexy. You're a redhead, you're hot, you're daring, you're yearning... What do you think about Vixen?"_

_"Vixen?"_

_"Yeah!"_

_"It's cool, I guess-"_

_"Then that's it! Vixen Bennet. I like the Frenchness about it. Oh, the boys are gonna love you, Honey! Just wait."_

_The scantily-clad interviewer stood, as did the young, sweater-covered interviewee and they shook hands._

_"You start on Friday. See you at six! We'll have a few outfits to pick from until you can get your own, okay?"_

_"Okay. See you then!"_

_Prue Bennet picked up her purse and turned to leave from downtown Atlanta's famous gentlemen's club, The Duchess, of now which she was employed. In the back of her head a voice was screaming at her, disappointed in her decision. She knew that this was quite possibly the lowest of the low when it came to jobs, except full-fledged prostitution, but she had no choice. She was homeless, having just been kicked out on the street by the landowner of what had been her and her best friend's dinky apartment, until said "best friend" got caught dealing cocaine by the police while she'd been out job-hunting. Needless to say, Prue had not come home to a pretty picture. With "best friend" in jail now and no home, Prue had no time to pick and choose. She needed money and she needed it fast. What faster way was there to get money than by selling your sex? Sure, it was degrading, but again, Prue really had no choice right at the moment. This would definitely not be a permanent plan of action; her strategy was to stay as long as it took to find a more refined occupation, like fastfood or waitressing. The temptation of going straight to her parents nagged at her mind, but after finally gaining independence from them less than a year ago, Prue had no inclination to return so soon. If her mother ever found out about this, she was sure that she'd tan her hide. Prue needed space from them, especially her overbearing mother. As awful as it sounded, she was rather excited in a way to do something so dirty and raw as stripping. With years of religious imprisonment under her belt she was more than ready for a taste of freedom._

_"Look at you, girl! You turned out way better than I imagined!"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_Prue stood in front of a full-length mirror, her hazel eyes studying her reflection with blaring discomfort. She arrived a half an hour before her shift started on that Friday so that she could get assistance with improving her appearance. Well, she was everything but improved, at least by her account. Prue wore make-up and dressed inappropriately from time to time just like any other eighteen year old girl, but never would she have pictured herself garbed in such a crude getup as she was in now. Her voluminous blazing red curls were fluffed and teased to the point that she had a sort of faux afro going on; her face was unrecognizable beneath the sixty pounds of foundation, eyeliner and mascara giving her the resemblance of a garbage-dwelling racoon, and blood red lipstick that she was certain would stain her lips forever. The clothes (if you could call them that) she inhabited consisted of a glittering emerald-green sequin bikini set and a pair of black patent leather stilettos. It was supposed to be sexy, but all that Prue felt was demeaned._

_"You and Chrissy's time is almost up. Are ya ready, Honey?" _

_The supervisor and head showgirl of the establishment placed her hand on Prue's shoulder. The redhead looked around at her with wide, hesitant eyes. _

_She swallowed and forced herself to nod._

_It was too late for second thoughts..._

_"Gentlemen, I know it's always hard to let Trixie go, but if I could get y'all's attention for our next two gals who are about to grace the stage, I would be much obliged. Now you boys know one of them already, our dear lovebug, Miss Chrissy, but it just so happens we rangled a new beauty just a few days ago. She's ginger, she's fiesty, and she's funsize too! Gentlemen, please, put your hands together and give a warm welcome to our newest edition to the club, Miss Vixen Bennet!" the elderly owner of The Duchess announced dramatically from the music booth._

_"Come on!" Chrissy pulled Prue on with her as the thumping drumbeat of John Mellencamp's "Hurts So Good" started._

_Prue's heart dropped at the booming applause from the male audience and she cringed at the flashing strobe lights, nearly tripping over her own feet. The men hooted and whistled at them, which served to further embarass Prue. Chrissy, however, proudly strutted down the stretch of stage, exaggerating the natural sway of her hips, an action that garnered her a wave of hungry howls. Prue knew she must of looked stupid standing at the back by the curtains just watching her co-worker work it like a pro, but it was difficult to make her legs go forward. Her boss noticed her lurking in the shadows and made sure everyone else did too._

_"Well, it seems that our new girl is being coy! Come on, Honey, you don't need to hide! Show these boys what you've got! Come on! Come out, Vixey!"_

_The men joined in with him, demanding she give them a good time. Prue, despite the pressure, just couldn't get herself to move even a centimeter. Chrissy, annoyed by the girl's shyness disrupting the spotlight on her, twirled and stomped back to Prue's safe corner. _

_"Come on! Move your ass, Princess! You're not gonna get a dime by being invisible." _

_"Wait-" Prue began, but Chrissy didn't let her finish, grabbing her hands and dragging her out onto the stage._

_"Let's dance." Chrissy growled._

_Before Prue could run away, the other girl put her hands on the red-haired woman's shoulders, gripping her tight, and pressed her body against her. Without warning she proceeded to grind Prue up and down, wordlessly encouraging her to play along. Prue was like a living statue paralyzed with mortification. She could tell Chrissy was getting pissed, but she was unable to do anything except look away. Her eyes bounced around the room, from man to drooling man, until they stopped dead on one particular person in the frothing crowd. He was close to the front, seated at a table with two other men and not foaming at the mouth, which intrigued her. He caught her staring and gave a wink. Prue automatically smiled back, her cheeks warming a bit. _

_"You either help me here or get the fuck off this stage!" the biting words of Chrissy brought Prue to look at her._

_"Okay!"_

_Prue, compelled to reciprocate Chrissy's seductive dance style, bumped and grinded steadily to the loud music, all the while her eyes sneaking peeks at the attractive man who had given her a wink. It was not long before the song changed to a faster techno beat, the strobe lights moving about erractically in time with it. The women separated from each other; Chrissy skipping to the edge of the stage, leaving Prue to fend for herself. The redhead noted Chrissy's sexual maneuvers that turned on every man in her presence. She remembered the man she'd made eye contact with and willed her body to do something, anything. _

_"...It's not too complicated, nothing like rocket science or anything..."_

_On impulse, a personality trait she was often reprimanded for, the girl ran over to one of the three silver poles that extended from the stage to the ceiling and did what she'd always seen done in film. Winding around the pole in a slow, purposeful manner, she slid the front of her body down its length, then gradually up once more. She repeated this action over and over, hoping to get a certain someone's attention. She got it, plus every other guy's in the vicinity. It's what they'd been waiting for._

_"Looks like someone's finally broken outta her shell! Gentlemen, give the lady some encouragement!" the owner hollered over the microphone._

_They did not need to be told twice. It seemed to Prue that everyone had stood and clapped crazily, begging for more from her. As she produced more sultry ideas from her bag of tricks, she failed to notice her co-worker's steaming glower. All that she could focus on was that man in the audience with sparkling eyes that appeared to be glued to her. _

_"Way to go, Vixen!" the supervisor exclaimed with delight, hugging Prue offstage a half an hour later. "You sure got them excited out there! You're a keeper alright!"_

_"Thanks, I froze for a while there. Thank God Chrissy came and woke me up." _

_Prue threw a grateful look in the other girl's direction, but she was already gone. That was odd. No goodbyes or anything. Whatever. Gathering her tips and twenty dollars from the owner (which altogether came to forty-six dollars and fifty cents), the young woman changed into her much more comfortable street clothes and headed out the back door of the club. As she turned out onto the sidewalk, she accidentally collided with another body. A rock-solid body that had her reeling backwards._

_"Whoa! Jesus, I'm sorry!" said a gravelly male voice._

_"It's alright." Prue steadied herself with the stranger's help._

_She looked up at him and gasped. _

_"It's you!" she said._

_It was the same man from earlier during her show at The Duchess. The man she'd been shaking her rump for. He stood towering over her, broad-chested, wide-shouldered, a fabulous jawline and breezy blonde hair styled to perfection. In the dim light of the streetlamps he was imposing. _

_He grinned, recognizing her as well._

_"Hey, Vixen Bennet. That was quite a display tonight... For a beginner." _

_"Was it that obvious?" _

_"Yeah, but your pretty face made up for all your blunders."_

_Prue sighed disheartened, folding her arms._

_"I'm just trying to make a quick buck..." _

_"Ah, don't look so sad, I was only messin' with ya, Sweetheart," he spoke gently to her, stepping closer. "What's you name?"_

_The girl eyed him warily for a second, then answered, "Prue Bennet." _

_"Prue Bennet? That's a lot different than _Vixen_ Bennet," he smirked playfully, sticking out his hand to her. "I'm Cash. Cash Carter. Atlanta P.D."_

_"You're a cop?!"_

_"Not on _duty! _Even us men of the law need a little break from time to time."_

_Prue nodded and shook his hand. It was huge, engulfing her own fragile one. If he wanted, he could have crushed it as easily as he would a piece of paper. Her hazel eyes travelled up to meet his again and they held her gaze firmly._

_"I don't want to sound forward or anything, but, is there any chance I could get your number, Miss Bennet?" his voice was soft and hopeful._

_Prue blinked, swallowed and licked her ruby red lips. She could not have refused him even if she tried._

_"Sure... Cash."_

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_~Present Day~_

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Viggo's long, pink tongue lolled out of the side of his broad maw in a moment of ecstasy as his languid mother rubbed the root of his velvet ear between her thumb and index fingers. It had to be seven in the morning, or so Prue assumed by the position of sun. She yawned and picked out the sleep crumbs from the corners of her eyes with her free hand. Sitting beside the long dead fire from the night last, she watched the other members of the camp run about doing chores and what not, incredulous.

"How anyone can be so full of energy in the morning is beyond me." she grumbled to herself, ignoring Viggo's impatient whine to rub better.

In her peripheral vision she could see two small figures striding towards her. A uncontrollable smile yanked at her lips.

"Hey, Piper!" one of them, a young boy with stunning blue eyes and dark hair, greeted cheerfully.

"Hi." followed the other, a girl close to his age with shoulder-length ash blond hair.

"Morning kids." Prue turned to them with her open smile, holding onto viggo's taunt leash, as he tried his best to reach his nose far enough to sniff the children, tail wagging.

"Hi, Vig." the boy came to the dog, scratching behind his ears.

"Oh, he _loves _that," the woman commented, chuckling. "He'd let you do that all day if you could."

The boy intensified the scratching to the point that the pitbull flopped over onto his back, exposing his belly to them without any reservation.

Prue laughed boisterously. "See, I told ya."

The boy knelt and complied to Viggo's wordless command, eager to please the animal. The girl, however, showed not the slightest interest in him, her features tense. Prue knew she was scared of Viggo, because her father had drilled every possible stereotype and lie he could about the infamous bully breed into her head.

"So, what's up? she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "I'm sure you guys didn't come over to just say hello."

The boy slowly lifted his head to meet her eye. Prue noted his nervous countenance, which confused her.

"We-well, I-I was wondering... Could me and Sophia take Viggo for a walk? We're really, _really _bored and I never had a dog to walk before, so if it's okay with you...?"

"You're _bored? _What, Shane couldn't find a single job for you youngins' to do?"

They shook their heads in unison.

"We can have free time for a bit." Sophia informed quietly.

"I'd personally prefer if you two just stay in camp where we can see you, not off in the woods naked to attack."

"But, Viggo would protect us!"

"Yes, of course he would," Prue sighed, already exhausted. "Look, Carl, the decision for you and Sophia to go on a walk isn't up to me. I can grant you my dog and that's it. You need to talk to your parents. I mean, what about your dad, Carl? He _just_ found you yesterday, I doubt he'd be willing to risk your safety just like that."

"We'll stay in camp! We won't go near the woods!" Carl persisted.

"Is the word 'dumb' plastered on my forehead or something?" Prue's left eyebrow arched.

"No! Please, Piper, we-"

"Carl, Sophia, I'm sorry, but the answer is no."

Carl bit his lip. He gave the woman a dispirited look before getting to his feet.

"Let's go, Sophia." he mumbled, beckoning her to follow him.

The two left Prue alone as she was before, with a very discombobulated Viggo swinging his head every which way to find where his tummy-rubber had gone. Prue's maternal intuition told her that Carl hadn't given up just yet, bound and determined to find a way to fulfill his need for adventure. She hated saying no to them, but the last thing she wanted to do was make the calls that should be their parents' responsibility, have them get injured or something and then be hung for her dumb mistake. Especially after that near-death experience yesterday, she wasn't game for another faux pas action on her part. Thinking about yesterday recalled to her Rick's valiant rescue of her brainless self two times and the sick fact that she had not once thanked him. She'd meant to, really, but between figuratively licking her wounds, picking up Morales, T-Dog, Andrea and Jacqui, finding out that Dixon had been left handcuffed on the roof, wondering where the hell Glenn was, and discovering that Rick was the long-lost son of Miss Lena Grimes, brother of Scarlett Reed, and father of Carl, the polite return had slipped her mind.

"Shit." she groaned, dragging her free hand down her face.

She knew what she had to do.

Having found a cigarette partially squashed in her buttocks pocket, Prue lit it up and popped it in her mouth. Taking a sharp, deep inhale that spread the nicotine throughout her system, the rustic woman rose from the faded camping chair and ventured off with Viggo in the direction of Lena, Scarlett and Carl's tent where she was fairly certain that Rick would be. When she arrived she saw no sign of the Grimes family and figured they were still snoozing in the tent. Plucking out her Pall Mall, she gave a sullen sigh. She made to go and had taken a few strides when a familiar rasp caused her to halt.

"Prue?"

"Yeah," she spun around, yanking Viggo with her. "Hey, good morning."

"Good morning." Rick stepped out of the sizable tent, clothed in a white shirt and jeans.

There was a fresh glow about him, Prue noticed.

"Well, _you_ look well-rested. Almost don't recognize you, save for those scary peepers of yours." she said, her cigarette dangling off her bottom lip.

"Best night of sleep I've had in I don't know when. What about you?"

He was two feet in front of her now, thumbs hooked on the waist of his jeans.

Prue puffed on her Pall Mall, speaking through its smoke. "Shitty."

"That ain't good."

"No it isn't."

There was an awkward pause.

"Listen, uh, Rick, about yesterday-" Prue's eyes connected with his.

He gave a nod to encourage her to continue. She withdrew the cigarette from her mouth, licking her lips, annoyed to feel herself become suddenly shy of him.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving my ass." she blurted out quickly.

Before he could say a word back, the woman had turned and scampered away, Viggo galloping in tow. Rick stood on the spot for a few moments, mouth slightly open. Once she was out of his line of sight, the man shook his head and decided to go seek out his mother and sister. He had a burning thought on his mind that would just not go away, and he wanted to express it to them in hopes they'd help him solve his personal dilemma.

"Hi, whoa, what's wrong with you?"

Andrea and her younger sister Amy watched with questioning looks as Prue tromped across the campsite towards them, her face flushed and hair flying.

"Piper, is everything okay?" Andrea asked.

"No," the redhead stopped before them abruptly, exhaling. "I'm a fucking jackass."

"Why? What'd you do now?" Amy queried with patent interest.

Prue didn't meet either of their eyes, dropping her cigarette butt to put it out in the dirt with her boot.

"Does this have anything to do with Rick?" Andrea dared to say.

Prue shot the blond a look of umbrage, the whites of her eyes showing.

Andrea flinched. "Look, I'm sorry for teasing you yesterday about him being into you..."

The other woman tossed her hair back, placing her hands on her curvaceous hips.

"Why be sorry?"

"Because, I know you don't have the best history with cops. I was stupid and insensitive-"

Andrea's words were cut short by the sound of screams echoing from the woods that lay a good yard or two away from them. The three women stiffened up, their heads turning at once towards the trees. Prue's mouth went dry and her heart doubled its usual rate; she knew exactly to whom those screams belonged.

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